


A Recipe for Success

by needles



Series: Bokuaka Detective drabbles [5]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:06:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28882899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/needles/pseuds/needles
Summary: Bokuto has a mission, a very special mission. Hopefully it will not involve blood, and there will be no collateral damage, as long as he succeeds. Unfortunately it isn't something he has trained for...
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Series: Bokuaka Detective drabbles [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2116251
Comments: 4
Kudos: 35





	A Recipe for Success

Bokuto surveyed the equipment laid out for his next mission, checking each item off against his list.

All present and correct. 

Now for the instructions he had to follow, meticulously, to the letter, if he wanted to ensure success, and he did. This was a mission that couldn’t be allowed to fail. He was tackling it solo for the first time and although he was nervous he knew that he had prepared as well as he possibly could.

It was time to take the plunge.

He measured carefully, placed everything in the container and selected his weapon of choice, now what did his briefing say?  
“Cream the butter and sugar.”

Cream? 

What was he supposed to do, beat the living daylights out of it? 

Luckily for his ingredients there were additional instructions to check.

Hmm, it appeared that was pretty much it. He picked up the wooden spoon again and set to work. Very soon the hard butter and gritty sugar capitulated under the force of his arm and formed a sticky alliance in his bowl.

On to stage two.  
“Whip the eggs in a bowl and beat them into the creamed mixture.”

Whip? Beat? Was all baking this violent?

With a shrug he cracked the eggs, carefully fishing out the broken pieces of shell, and then whisked them until they were a uniform pale yellow. He poured them into his bowl and looked at the slippery sight. Not looking terribly edible yet, still...

Taking his spoon again he began to rapidly beat the mixture. After removing his egg splattered t-shirt and pants he slowed down his beating until the slippery eggs were almost incorporated. Now that was something the recipe should have warned against, ingredients fighting back.

He looked at stage three.  
“Fold in the flour and cocoa powder.”

He looked at the soft gloopy mixture in the bowl as it plopped off the end of his raised spoon. Fold that? He shook his head and consulted the back of his book again. 

Fortunately it advised him to change to a metal spoon and gave him diagrams of the manoeuvre in question.

Following them carefully he was able to achieve an evenly brown bowl of something which actually looked like the picture in the book.

He spooned it into two pans and placed them into the hot oven, setting the timer as precisely as for a high explosive. Then he dusted off his hands and returned to complete task number two, the frosting.

Taking a fresh bowl he added the butter and powdered sugar, smiling as he read the now familiar instruction to cream them.

After he had finished coughing and the sugar dust cloud had settled, he noticed the instruction to add the sugar a little at a time, damn! 

Still he just had to go slowly and gradually the sugar was tamed. This time the mix was much stiffer, there was far more sugar. Next he added cocoa powder, extremely carefully this time since he had no wish to breathe in a lungful of chocolate. It worked but now his frosting was almost solid. He frowned and consulted his book, it said he could add a little milk or flavouring at this point to thin the mix and gave a list of suggestions. One caught his eye and he grinned as he headed for the drinks cabinet.

A good slosh of cognac went in the bowl, and a small tot for him. He was doing all the work after all; he deserved a treat didn’t he?

He mixed again, hmm? Maybe he’d added a little too much, it seemed a bit too runny now. He added some more sugar. Then a drop of cognac. A little more sugar. Finally he got it just right, although there now seemed to be rather more frosting than he was going to need. Never mind just spread it on thick; you can never have too much frosting, right?

Beep, beep, beep!

The noise from the oven roused him from his reverie and he opened the door, remembering just in time to put on oven mitts before removing the cakes from the ferocious heat. He grinned broadly at the two brown cakes, they looked perfect. Ok maybe not quite flat, or even but pretty good for a first attempt. Anyway that would all be hidden under the frosting.

He set them to cool and turned off the oven. 

Time for a cold beer, his throat was dry from breathing in flour and sugar, and the heat from the oven had made the whole kitchen warm. Besides he had to let the cakes cool before he could proceed.

Twenty minutes later and he had managed to remove the cakes from their pans without too much breakage. They looked as though they had turned out light and fluffy and they had flattened a little, no longer resembling two small mountain peaks.

He placed one on a cake board and took a sharp knife. The book said it was not cheating to trim the cake if it was uneven, so he levelled off the top, popping the pieces in his mouth.   
Pretty good Koutarou, he congratulated himself. 

He trimmed the second cake and then took his bowl of frosting and a large knife. He spread frosting liberally over the bottom cake in a layer about half an inch thick. Then he laid the second cake on top and began to plaster the whole edifice in more frosting.  
Finally he added the finishing touch, six gold candles, and stood back – perfect. He glanced at his watch. Heck, he would be here soon! He hurriedly scooped all the dirty dishes into the sink to wash later, and bundled the packets of flour, sugar and cocoa back into the cupboards. He was just replacing the cognac when he heard a key in the door. He pushed the kitchen door almost shut and peeked through the crack.

Keiji shed his coat and shoes and dropped his bag with a weary sigh then he stiffened and sniffed. Frowning he headed towards his kitchen.

Bokuto took up position beside the table and ran the Zippo rapidly over the candles lighting them just as he pushed open the door.

“Bokuto san! What on earth....?” Keiji ran his eyes over a bare chest and the expanse of naked leg between boxers and stripy socks.

“Happy anniversary Akaashi,” he smiled.

“Anniversary? What anniversary?”

“We have been partners six years today. I baked us a cake.” He nodded at the flaming chocolate mountain in front of him.

Keiji crossed to the table and looked at it with a smile. “You baked it?”

“Yep,” Bokuto grinned proudly, “All my own work. Now let’s blow out the candles and try it.” 

“I think we’d better before they melt the frosting,” Keiji giggled.

Bokuto took his hand and drew him round to his side of the table. “One, two, three, BLOW!”

They puffed together and the candles went out leaving little trails of smoke from their stubs.

Bokuto quickly tugged the candles out of the frosting and picked up a large knife. He held it over the cake, point into the frosting, paused and looked at him. “Akaashi?”

Slowly Akaashi laid a hand over his partner’s.

Bokuto grinned, “To us Akaashi,” he said. 

“To us Bokuto san,” he replied, and together they pushed down.

Bokuto cut two slices and put them on plates whilst Akaashi grabbed two forks, and they sampled his cake.

“This is very good Bokuto san. There’s something in this frosting though besides chocolate?”

“Cognac,” he smiled.

Akaashi closed his eyes for a moment, “Mmm, yes.” Then they flashed open, “My Vieilles Réserve Cognac?”

“Yep.”

“That Cognac is twenty five years old Bokuto san!”

“Time it was used then.” He looked at Keiji’s outraged expression and nudged him, “Don’t you think we deserve the best Akaashi?”

A smile crept back across Keiji’s face, “I think I’ve already got it.”

“Me too Akaashi.” He watched as Keiji licked a stray smear of frosting from his lips.

“You missed a bit Akaashi,” he said as he kissed them, wiping his own tongue across their chocolaty sweetness then plundering his mouth as Keiji returned the favour.

Keiji gave a small moan and ran his hand over Bokuto’s bare chest. “Tell me Bokuto san,” he murmured into his ear, “Do you always bake half naked?”

“For you Akaashi, always,” he promised picking him up and heading for the bedroom.

Keiji pressed small kisses over his chest as he carried him, “Mmm you taste of sugar Bokuto san, and chocolate.”


End file.
